


This is His Love

by Just-kent-ing-around (FallenBleedingAngel)



Series: Aubades to the Sun [1]
Category: DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Bruce Wayne, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Don't copy to another site, F/M, M/M, No non-con between Bruce and Clark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 16:56:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17165750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenBleedingAngel/pseuds/Just-kent-ing-around
Summary: Worship him.Sun kissed skin.Sky blue eyes.O' God, O' Lord, All Mighty Above.Let Him see me, let Him see my love.





	This is His Love

**Author's Note:**

> This work contains attempted r/ape, and non-con elements, but I promise, it does not actually happen. I couldn't bare to write it, so I did the next best thing I could.  
> This is a rather vague idea I wanted to spread out into chapters, but don't really have the time or brain power for.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy, Kudos, and comment!

 

This is His Love

 

* * *

 

_ “Cause this is his body, this is his love, such selfish prayers, I can’t get enough.” Bedroom Hymns, Florence + The Machine _

 

* * *

 

“He is beautiful.” She exclaimed, a queer exaltation in her voice, and frenzy in her eyes. Her breathing turned deep, the husk of her voice becoming more prominent at her unconscious cooing.

“What tremendous power. I can feel him, feel his sanctity.” She fell to her knees, crawling as close as she could bear, grovelling on the stone floor. Her eyes followed his breathing, the expanding of his torso, the pink of his skin - and she longed to trail her hands over his chest. Ached to dig her teeth into his neck. To bite his lips. She yearned for the divinity within him. To cry out her ultimate pleasure while he pulsed within her and planted life.

“Calm yourself. You shall get your time soon.” The Priest chided, cold blue eyes warning her away from their God, yet he did not stray closer.

“How can I be calm?” She looked to his sleeping figure, wetness dripping from her core, at the thought of his holy body finally being within her grasp. “He is with me, - with us - now. And he is divine.”

She licked her lips, growing hot, before The Priest shook his head. “Come now. We must prepare. He will wake soon and everything must be perfect. So must you.” His steely voice ordered, and she turned to follow him slowly - drinking in the sight of their God before his sleeping form disappeared entirely from her view.

 

* * *

 

“What do we know?” Batman growled, cape fluttering as he shifted heavily in his seat.

“Not much,” Wonder Woman frowned, looking at the screens with narrowed eyes.

“They have a website. ‘The Church of the Divine Sun,’ but it’s vague. All it tells you is they worship a God, and to contact a representative if you wish to know more. With all the filler cult stuff as usual.” Flash grumbled, his fingers blurring as he nervously tapped away on a separate device.

“Has anyone tried getting in contact?” Batman swiped across several screens, - growling out his frustration.

“About that...” Green Arrow crossed his arms, “I tried getting in contact with a so called, ‘representative,’ and while they were ‘joyous to have me,’ they said contact with any higher ups restricted until I could be vetoed. And was a part of their cult for several years. Or possessed an  _ admirable _ quality that would undergo immediate evaluation. They didn’t define what an admirable quality was.”

“Not that I’m not willing to track down any lead to find Kal, but why are we focusing so much of this...cult?” Aquaman asked, dropping a pile of papers onto the table.

“Besides the fact that I’ve exhausted all of my other leads?” Batman stroked his chin, “These people have always been very odd when it came to dealing with Kal. They would scatter as soon as any involvement with him became apparent. At first I thought they feared him. But there’s always been whispers. Very controlled whispers that a cult who worships Superman exists. And they’re recruiting.”

“I don’t know what they want with him. But I can guess well enough, and none of it is good. If Kal is in their hands, we need to move quick, and quiet. Worshipful people are rarely ever calm when the person they consider their God is at hand.”

 

* * *

 

Clark opened his eyes to sunlight filtering through a golden cupola.

His wrists tied to his sides, feet bound together, but his mouth was without a gag, and his head could move freely.

The room was too perfect, all reds, and blues, - hints of gold, and cold gray stone. A chill trailed down his back, and Clark gritted his teeth.

He felt a tiredness pass through him, and turned his head to look at the metal binding his hands, his head feeling thick and heavy.

Heavy, silvery green shackles wrapped around his body, beautifully engraved with flowers but no less deadly. His skin ached, needles piercing him, and rubbing his skin raw as he tried to shift away. - To break free.

“Ah!” He groaned - fighting with all his might to tear out his restraints. He fought against them relentlessly, grunting and heaving, - strength waning from his body.

He stopped fighting at the sound of a gasp, and when he turned to look, a pale man, - older than him by many decades, froze in his sight and dropped to his knees.

“I beg you. Spare me. Spare me. I did not mean to look. I did not think to hide my eyes, your Holiness.” He stuttered out, smacking his forehead to the floor.

Clark could faintly hear his heart, beating like a war drum. _Scared._

“Who are you? Where am I? And why have you restrained me?” He asked, and did not lift his gaze from the man, no matter how he discomforted the kneeling made him.

“Oh forgive me. Forgive me, your grace. I cannot answer. I should not answer. It is not my place. Forgive me, I am not worthy to be in your Holiness’ presence. Let me call the others. Please.” The man shook, and Clark did not need his heightened eyesight to see the buckets of sweat dripping down the sides of his forehead.

Clark deliberated for a moment, before deciding the man was too afraid to tell him anything important. “Very well then. Go.”

“I thank you.” The man heaved, standing and swaying deliriously, his eyes stuck to the floor, “It is my life’s honor to have spoken with you.” The man scurried away, - past a golden arch, and away.

Clark waited.

 

* * *

 

An aged man walked in slowly, his cane clanking against the stone, before walking to his side and bowing his head. Behind him a trail of women and men followed, all dressed in loose and silky clothes. They shared no common traits, all of different skin colors, tones, and ethnicities. And Clark wondered.

He looked upon them, - and heard the faintest thrumming of hearts racing like the wind. The sun shone directly above the cupola, and for all Clark wished for it’s warmth, all that grew within him was a cold fear.

“Your Holiness.” They all knelt, except the aged man. “It is a great honor.” They echoed, their timbres melding together into one voice.

“Who are you? Why am I here?” Clark ignored the others, turning his head to the gray haired man.

“I am your Priest, Your Holiness.” The man answered, but he did not raise his head, or lift his eyes from the floor. “Simply bid me to do your will, and it shall be done.”

“I am no God. I have no priests.” Kal spat, head throbbing, - and a dreadful worry growing in his gut.

They laughed at this, and the priest smiled, “Our God is a humble one, - despite the divinity in his veins, he still walks among mankind and pretends not to know us.” The congregation of people clap frantically, before it subsides to something more respectful.

“I don’t know who you are. But I can guess the reason you’ve taken me. I’ll only say this once more. I am not the Almighty. I am not  _ your _ God.” Clark’s eyes fluttered shut even he forced them open and into awareness. He could feel it. The Kryptonite digging into his wrists and legs, ripping open his skin, dripping poison into his blood.

The Priest goes frigid at his words, and the people go quiet. The Priest laughs, warm and bright, nothing like the arctic chill in his eyes.

“You are our God. And we have worshiped you for many years, Your Holiness. We have watched you save countless millions, defeat foes, advocate for peace. You are God in our hearts, and nothing may change our convictions. The others may not believe, and perhaps have convinced you of their lies, but we have seen truth. We have waited so long for this moment. To be in your presence, have we not?” The Priest asked, and the others nodded freverently, looking at Clark hungrily.

“We thought to worship you, Your Holiness. To please you. We know you have never taken a partner, or fathered seed.” The Priest gestured, and a voluptuous woman sprang from her feet and grovelled on the stone floor, a wide smile on her face.

“And so we give you ourselves, Your Holiness.” The woman spoke, “We will give you pleasure, and love, family and protection.” She crooned, and at the Priest’s nod, she walks trembling to the table, faintly touching the restraints holding Clark down.

She feasts her eyes upon her God ravenously. Drinking in the sight of his perfection, and she grows warm to think of growing full with his seed.

“Do not worry, Your Holiness, I will work hard to make you a father. So that your great and noble house will not end with you.” She giggles, and touches her neck, a collar of acid green clinging to her.

“I do not need your protection. Or want your promises.” Clark shudders, his voice colder than he’d ever let it. He looks at her face, - and meets her eyes, a warm brown to his cold blue, and she falls to the floor, her legs giving out under her.

She takes a deep breath, and collects herself, as the Priest hesitates to walk over.

“I am fine. I did not think his Holiness would look upon my eyes.” She speaks softly, but with confidence, and stands firmly.

Reverently, she hoists herself over Clark, spreading herself above him, and her robes part to reveal her bare body.

Her legs rest at the sides of his waist, and she touches him slowly, running her fingers over the textures of his super suit.

“Let me go.” Clark swallows thickly, but does not beg. A terror beginning to take hold of his sluggish brain.

“Your Holiness, I cannot.” Her voice drops, dripping with sorrow, “I must secure your line, - grow heavy with your child.” But Clark can hear the eager undertones. His skin crawls at her touch, - but he cannot fight, his body heavy with pins and needles.

She giggles, kissing at his neck while her collar sends stabs of pain through him.

“May I undress you, Your Holiness?” She asks, licking her lips.

“N-no.” Clark groans, writhing in agony at her closeness.

She pauses for a moment in his ministrations, looking to the Priest for answers. He simply nods, - and she bounces with excitement on Clark’s hips. Breathlessly, she lifts his shirt, - gingerly touching his bare chest, a hysteria building within her.

“Do not worry, Your Holiness.” The Priest stands at his side now, the others in the room back to kneeling, “You shall feel great pleasure,” His voice echoes, - and a glaring pain ruptures in Clark’s shoulder blade. He turns his head, and swims in dizziness, - a bright green needle sinking into his skin.

His heart beat thrums readily, quick like a rabbit, - and heat builds with in him. A chilling and sickly ache he’s never wished to know, gnawing at his insides. - Lust.

He feels them moving his limbs, stripping him of his suit, and he can feel her claws, - and that horrific sickly sweet smile, as she grinds herself against him.

“After you have suitably filled the women, if you so please, you may have your share of men too, Your Holiness.” The Priest’s voice rings in his head, as the woman, leans in to lay a despicable kiss on his lips.

Clark roars in anger, willing his body to move. To fight. To throw off the abomination clinging to his body. He wants to curl up on himself, seeing her lascivious eyes gorging on his body.

He cannot feel.

He does not want to feel.

Not the heat, eating him alive.

Not the hands touching him reverently.

Or the eyes watching, waiting for a turn.

Clark gasps for breath, - tears spilling from his eyes, when the cupola breaks.

The beautiful golden design cracking, - and the screaming starts.

Glass rains from the heavens, the Justice League spilling into the room, - and Batman at the helm, a furious anger unleashing at the sight of a chained Kal-El, crying. 

The Dark Knight goes flying, sprinting towards the woman with a one minded fury, not caring how she cries when he lets his anger get the better of him, mercilessly throwing a punch at her stomach. He throws her away from Clark with a roar of unadulterated fury, her body smacking heavily to the floor.

“Kal, we’re here. You’re alright. We’re here.” Batman’s voice breaks through the heat. And Clark is grateful. So grateful.

Warm tears drip down his face, but Clark doesn’t have the motor control to smile, - so he sleeps.

Safe, and warm.  _ Protected. _

 

* * *

 

When Clark wakes, thick heavy solar panels surround him, - and Bruce sleeps at his side, curled up on a thick, cushioned chair.

“Bruce?” Clark croaks, slowly raising his hand to grab him.

Bruce wakes with a start, his eyes roaming the room before settling on Clark.

“ _ Clark _ ,” Bruce grabs Clark’s hand tightly, kissing it lightly, watching Clark’s reaction. Clark smiles at his partner’s worry, tears forming in his eyes, “I’m okay, B. I’m okay.”

“No you’re not, Clark. Not after that. Not after what happened.” Bruce squeezes tighter, his voice turning gruff.

“But I will be. You got me out in time, B.” Clark tries to soothe him, but Bruce prickles.

“It should’ve never happened. I-” Bruce swallows, his blue eyes wet with unshed tears, “I failed you.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done, B. Fanatics are like that. But you got me before anything worse could happen. You- you make me feel safe.” Clark cries, lifting his weary body to wrap Bruce in a hug.

“I’ll make sure they’ll never see the light of day. I’ll make sure they never get their hands on you again.” Bruce promises, whispering into Clark’s ear.

Clark believes him.

 


End file.
